


a kind and mismatched thing

by KDblack



Series: Dragon Ball Collection [6]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Complicated Relationships, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Son Goku's C+ Parenting, and the slow breakdown thereof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDblack/pseuds/KDblack
Summary: Gohan's father died when he was very small – a truth and a lie wrapped up into one.
Relationships: Son Gohan & Son Goku
Series: Dragon Ball Collection [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696063
Comments: 16
Kudos: 86





	a kind and mismatched thing

Son Gohan has a collection of death certificates. Not his; they belong to his father. Crisp parchment, thick like animal hide, kept neatly filed away until the next time he feels the need to jog his memory. The oldest dates back to Age 761, October 12th, when Gohan was only four years old. If he strains, he can remember that day. The light fluffiness of Kinto-un. The sound of waves. The familiar weight of his tail swaying behind him. A pair of huge hands on his shoulders and a bright, energetic voice telling him to introduce himself. Other things happened that day, but Gohan prefers to dwell on these simple shreds of sensation when he's in this sort of mood. 

He has so few memories of his father before the man died. That moment changed everything. It bubbles up, unbidden, as he runs his fingers over stiff paper. Blood in the dirt. A chest with a view. And above it all, a terribly kind smile. No one could ever accuse Son Goku of being anything but pleasant, even as his life slipped away.

Gohan's father died when he was very small – a truth and a lie wrapped up into one. A lie, because he came back the very next year. A truth, because while Son Goku returned, Gohan's never been sure if his father did as well.

Maybe his dad was always like this: spacey, scatter-brained, forever waiting for the opportunity to uproot himself and leave. Maybe it's Gohan's fault for expecting stability and foundation from the man who once cradled Gohan so carefully in his arms. But he doesn't think it is.

Something changed when Son Goku came back to life. He didn't pick Gohan up or lead him on little adventures so casually anymore. There was an uncertain considering edge to his gaze that hadn't been there before. When he looked at Gohan, there was always an element of confusion, as if he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. Three years had taken too much away. Gohan's father didn't know him anymore. Mom noticed, because Mom always noticed, and that was when her smiles got tight. She looked at them both like they was slipping away from her. At least one of them was.

Before the Cell Games, Gohan used to think that his father had left something important in the afterlife. In his darker moments, when the nightmares wouldn't stop coming and his father was off in space, or training solo, or picking Vegeta over Gohan without a second thought, he wished his father would die again and come back with that missing softness. He missed the gentle, comforting presence of the man who'd held him that day, before everything went wrong. He still does. But he's beginning to wonder if that man ever really existed.

When he closes his eyes, he can still see his father smiling. He just can't read that smile at all.

After the Cell Games, when his father was dead again and it was all Gohan's fault, talking was a battle. He did it anyway, because his father understood battle like nothing else, and on some level he'd assumed his father's friends would be the same. This wasn't something he did for them; they'd be fine without having his feelings splashed all over him, just like his father was. It was something he needed to do, because he was weak. But as the words spilled out – _I miss him_ and _I'm sorry_ and _I never had a chance to share anything with him_ – people responded. As if having these ugly, messy feelings was natural. As if missing him was nothing to be ashamed of. Gohan didn't tell them he'd been missing his father since he was four years old.

Son Goku came back eventually, unchanged, his smile the same one captured in memories and photographs. Gohan had smiled back and felt nothing but disconnection. A cable had been unplugged somewhere deep in his brain. That familiar rush of warmth and safety and loss which had guided him across Namek and through the Cell Games was gone. In its place sat a quiet sort of sorrow mixed with curiosity. Two strangers, mourning a father and son who'd long since disappeared.

Son Goku had tilted his head then, eyes glittering with some distant and feral wisdom, and Gohan realized all at once that his father knew exactly what he was thinking, and had for years. But when he opened his mouth, Son Goku was already turning away, chattering excitedly to Goten as the rest of their little group closed ranks around him. It was like he'd never left, except for the giant holes in both their hearts.

It isn't that Gohan no longer loves his father. He's just not sure how to do it. Gohan is twenty-four now. He feels fifty. Son Goku is forty-five, and he looks and acts younger than his own son. In his darker moments, Gohan is sure that after Namek, his father felt the same way. It must have been harder for Son Goku to sort out his feelings. Gohan at least had role models growing up. The older he gets, the more he understands how awful his father's isolated upbringing must have been, and how deep the scars it left really are. 

His father is never calm in cities. There's no safety in numbers for him. Loud noises make him startle like an animal, and he can't make himself remember how to operate anything more complex than a capsule. Gohan has seen him lure wild rabbits right up to him with body language alone. As a child, it was the most amazing thing. As an adult, Gohan wonders it's another symptom of that disconnect.

Sometimes Gohan thinks his father was never meant to be a person. Wouldn't Son Goku have been happier if he'd stayed on his mountain, never knowing the complexities of the world? Wouldn't it be better if he'd never met Chi-Chi, never had children, never known the warmth of a family only to lose it to something he couldn't understand? He can't even talk to Gohan about it after all these years - they just skate around the scars as though ignoring them would make it hurt less. Though that particular sin may rest on both of their shoulders. 

When the full moon rises, Gohan makes a point to be indoors and in bed. He dawdled one reunion party and caught a glimpse of a familiar stranger sitting outside, face turned up, eyes closed. The moonlight made him a monster – a shape of dark hair, muscle, and teeth. 

Fierce. Terrifying. Beautiful. 

The sight made Gohan's heart ache to look at. He never wants to see it again. When he fled inside, he could feel a heavy gaze on his back. If he were a good son, he would have stopped and gone back outside, sat down next to the beast who used to be a man who used to be his father. But if there's something in Gohan which could understand that tense and inhuman moment, he wants it to stay buried, and he won't give that peace up for anything. He hopes Son Goku understands that much. He knows what's left of his father accepts it.

In the present, Gohan gives the first death certificate a final pat, trying and failing to work out all the creases. He crumpled it badly when he was young, hurting, and desperate. It'll never lay quite flat again.


End file.
